


I’m That Flight You Get On (International)

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Lot of Food Talk, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Consensual Kidnapping, Diplomacy, Embassy AU, Identity Reveal, M/M, Vicchan Lives, Victor with a K, diplomats in love, disrespect for protocol, foreign language humor, my date with the president's son?, puppy makkachin, viktor kidnaps cute boys and flirts shamelessly, yuuri and viktor are foodies, yuuri has the patience of a saint, yuuri is weak for viktor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lowly third secretary of the Acirema Embassy in Glen City, Eglen, Yuuri Katsuki gets stranded along the side of the main road in the small, provincial capital. Lucky for Yuuri, he’s not about to freeze to death thanks to the kindness of a well-dressed stranger, Viktor Nikiforov, who offers him a ride home in a sleek black, government-owned vehicle. If only Yuuri spoke better Eglenian, he would’ve maybe figured out Viktor meant a ride to his home, not Yuuri’s apartment?





	1. I got lipstick stamps on my passport (you make it hard to leave)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that Italics within quotation marks are used to denote the use of the Eglenian language. These countries are completely fake.

Yuuri would never understand how Eglen could translate into _tiny ice country_ , but considering the Eglenian language had three tones, it was only marginally easier to accept that one word could easily multiply into three.  

It was a fitting name the former colonizers had probably chosen carelessly for the frozen little toe of the world: Eglen, the land of eternal winter, where ice diving was the favorite pastime, the penguin was the national animal, and the land was much too wet at any given time to allow for the cheap construction of sidewalks (not that anyone was walking with an average temperature of 30 Fahrenheit in Summer).  Having grown up in a town in Acirema with particularly cruel winters, Yuuri had thought he’d be prepared. He was wrong. He’d been wrong about everything. Nothing could have prepared him for eternal grey skies of Eglen, where it was recommended to only spend 10 minutes outside at the peak of winter (unless you were willing to lose a finger).

But he’d still taken his assignment proudly; learned Eglenian in ten months; packed all his things; and stuffed his dog into a crate for fourteen hours to move into the top-floor apartment of a three-level building in downtown Glen City, right next to a busy road and a modern grocery store, with enough movies to last him the full two-year tour. No one had warned him Eglen _only_ had a movie theater and a handful of restaurants, with only one bar open on rotation every six months to accommodate most of the population, which just so happened to call the capital home.

(“What’s it like?” Mari, his sister, had asked him those first couple of weeks during one of their facetime conversations, watching him try to make sense of his housekeeper’s random organization.

“It’s interesting?” Yuuri had offered, more a question than a statement. It had been hard to explain Eglen back then – how it was possible for a country to export more supermodels than fish, their only agricultural product. Even their tourism poster had been beautiful people in fashionable coats, holding platters of grilled fish and pepper squid under the Northern Lights. Yuuri wasn’t even sure it was possible to see the stars from the capital, even without the light pollution he’d experienced back in Acirema.

“And?” Mari had pressed, arching an eyebrow.

“Cold,” Yuuri said decisively. There was no better adjective. “Want to see my black passport again?”

“You know, eventually that’s not going to work anymore. You’re a diplomat, Yuuri. You’re supposed to have, like, crazy stories about taking shots with Prime Ministers or rubbing shoulders with famous people. Didn’t you say the only perk to serving in a tiny country was the access?”

Yuuri had shrugged then, trying to snap a loose thread from his oversized wool sweater. He was still confused as to why he, Yuuri Katsuki, messy ball of nervous energy, had been tapped to represent his entire country.)

Two months in, Yuuri Katsuki, third secretary at the largest diplomatic mission in the country, was going to die. He hadn’t even had a shot with the Prime Minister yet. Mari would be so disappointed and probably say as much during his eulogy. Yes, Yuuri was going to die. He was also completely stranded a mile from the Embassy of Acirema without a functioning phone and no way to get home without abandoning his car and venturing out into the frigid cold of the capital.

If a bear didn’t kill him first, the snow would (all of which was an exaggeration, because he was in the capital, but considering that even his best Eglenian was barely conversational beyond the intricacies of _this is all supply and demand_ and _please vote for our candidate to the United Nations Council on Something_ , he was very likely to freeze to death before being able to ask a stranger to take him home).

(Granted, even if Yuuri had asked an Eglenian to take him home, he was still parsing out the Glenian accent, which was so unlike the provincial phrases and tones he’d learned back at the Acireman Diplomatic Institute. His _Full Proficiency_ designation was laughable at best and, at worst, made Eglenians ask him if he was born in 1935 at an ice farm.)   

So, yes, Yuuri was going to die. The headlines would appear in one of the four daily newspapers, probably reading something like: Acireman Diplomat Found Fossilized in Bear Cave, or, if he lived, Acireman Diplomat Seeks Shelter in Heated Porta Potty. The latter would garner some traction, at least, considering that for the last couple of weeks the Eglen Chronicles had printed an exposé on the cost to the Glen City Council to rent the porta potties, only for the reporter to note with alarming alacrity that a trip to PortablePotties.com showed that the price to own was _less_ than the monthly fee to rent. Yuuri thought he was going to see an actual riot when the Mayor gave a statement that the cost to _own_ was just too high, especially when a second  article underscored that one of the porta potties was being used in her home.

(He looks at the portable potty by the unusable, frozen children’s playground and tries to calculate his odds of making it without losing a toe. _People can walk with nine toes, right?_ – It’s something he’d typically Google, if only his phone wasn’t dead.)

Yuuri huffs, stuffing his hands under his armpits and trying to make a mental list of how much food he left behind for Vicchan. Vicchan is a smart poodle. He’ll break into the bags of dog kibble if needed. Unlike his owner, Yuuri knows his dog-son is a survivor.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

Yuuri ends up feeling silly somewhere around scenario number 25, which pushed him to eat the only protein bar he kept in the glove box. He’s technically only in the car for five minutes before a sleek back SUV with government plates parks right in front of Yuuri’s car, and he heaves a sigh of relief, wondering if, maybe, it’s an undercover policeman that can help him get his car started or at least call the Embassy. His colleagues will probably laugh, but he’ll take that any day to becoming a human popsicle. Yuuri sits up, hopeful as he watches a tall, platinum-haired man (which, when he thinks about it, describes, like, fifty percent of the population) fix his faux-leather gloves and thick scarf before walking over to knock on Yuuri’s window. Yuuri motions for him to take a couple of steps back; the car is dead. He can’t even roll down the windows.

“ _Ah, hello_ ,” the man speaks in Eglenian and Yuuri is grateful that he understands. “ _Friend, are you stranded, do you need help?_ ”

Yuuri nods vigorously, shivering, as he tries to speak in Eglenian, “ _Yes. Help. Speak Acireman?_ ”

“Oh yes, very little Acimeran,” the man responds with a thick accent, looking more than a little amused (and only later will Yuuri understand that he’s joking,) as he switches back to Eglenian. He speaks slowly, probably for Yuuri’s sake, “ _Want me to give you a ride?_ ”

“ _Could I use your portable phone to call the Embassy? I’m a diplomat,_ ” Yuuri says, and almost regrets saying it. Acirema is a popular destination. Visas are highly coveted. But he has yet to hear of an Eglenian national trying to beg for a visa in exchange of a favor, at least not one from the local government.

“ _My cellphone_ (and Yuuri winces, realizing he’s pieced together two words to try to create a single term,) _is without battery, but you can probably leave your car here. I can drive you. It’s not a problem. I’m Viktor._ ”

Yuuri knows all security protocols say otherwise, but he can either die in the cold or get home, call the Embassy, and then work with someone to get a tow truck for his car. Viktor, like the average Eglenian male, is also exceedingly gorgeous, only, for some reason, he is especially more so because, unlike the average citizen, he’s also smiling warmly at Yuuri like they’re friends. It sends a certain level of comfort rolling through Yuuri – not to mention Viktor is driving a government vehicle, which means he’s passed all types of security clearances and protocols, or at least he’s not a former convict. Yuuri will take riding with a not-former-convict any day.

“ _Thank you. That’s very kind. I will have to find a way to serve you in return (_ “ _I will have to find a way to service you,_ ” Viktor will later (much, much later) explain is what Yuuri actually said),” he says clumsily, not realizing he has easily switched into the informal _you_ and edged a little too close to the familiar. (“I was taught that _find a way to serve_ was a nice phrase, like return the favor,” Yuuri will tell him, angry and in Acireman. And Viktor will laugh, and reply, “Yes, probably until the 1940s. But that’s not even what you said.”) But that day Yuuri assumes he’s doing great if this one man can understand him and doesn’t seem offended. Yuuri smiles and says, “ _Please, take me home._ ”

(“You asked me to take you home in the same way a, uh, you call them hookers? Yes, that’s it, the same way a hooker might tell a man to take them home,” Viktor will explain, again, much, much later.

“Why would someone take a hooker home?” Yuuri blanches. He studies Viktor carefully. Yuuri has heard stories about some of the officials in the Eglenian government. Eglen doesn’t suffer from rampant corruption, but Yuuri has always suspected some Ministers were sneakily taking their cut. Since it wasn’t as bad as previous administrations and the country was – for once – developing, thanks to a surge in foreign investment, the people didn’t complain. However, Yuuri wasn’t ready to find out how initiated his boyfriend was in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “Have you ever done that, brought a prostitute home? I didn’t think you guys even had those here.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor will gasp, looking completely insulted, “of course not! I work for the government. Like any respectable adult with a job, I’ve taken all my prostitutes to a hotel. Why do you think we have so many?”

“Viktor!”

“I’m kidding, Yuuri. I’ve only ever _taken you home_. And we do have sex workers here, but there are laws heavily regulating the practice.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, blushing softly.)

Viktor looks at him surprised, practically taken aback, probably by Yuuri’s terrible country bumpkin accent. A dusting of pink settles on his nose and Yuuri assumes he’s just cold. After all, the wind is picking up. He doesn’t even consider the fact that he might just have led this kind stranger to believe that Yuuri is very eager to have Viktor take him home, as in Viktor’s home, so Yuuri can show his (very adult) appreciation.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

Yuuri talks to Viktor in stilted Eglenian speech, trying to explain how to get to his house. He was always bad when it came to directions, so he starts to wonder if maybe he’s doing it all wrong.

Viktor keeps smiling at him politely, giving little indication that he’s lost, and for the first half of the way, it looks like he’s going in the right direction until he makes a turn that Yuuri doesn’t recognize. The city is small, barely 200,000 citizens, so Yuuri feels secure in the knowledge that a couple of months in, he knows the different paths to his house. Now he’s not so sure, glossing through familiar and new neighborhoods, until eventually he realizes that they’re parked in front of a luxury apartment. One of his colleagues lives in the same building: J.J., a fellow first tour officer with a boisterous personality working in the consulate. A few Eglenians have written social media posts about him, dubbing him the ‘Gelled Canon in Window 7.’ Yuuri rarely sees him, working in a separate division. He could always tell Viktor that he knows someone in the building and he’ll ask them for help, but he’s not even sure how he would begin to ask the concierge to help him to find J.J.

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Viktor asks him in perfect, crisp Eglenian. Yuuri had never thought it was a very pretty language, but Viktor makes it sound like verbal art. He has a strange, almost posh accent that Yuuri thinks aligns very well with the richer members of society. As a diplomat, Yuuri is in a strange position in such a small country: He spending power is enough to be considered middle class, but not enough to be part of the elite, even if those are the only people that fill his inner circle. It leaves his dating prospects dry – too poor to date a millionaire; too high-profile to date blue-collar.

“ _Yes, okay, I’m just confused,_ ” Yuuri tries to explain. “ _I thought you were taking me home._ ”

“ _Oh, yes, this way,_ ” Viktor leads the way towards the elevator, and Yuuri begins to panic. “ _I’ll make us dinner._ ”

This is exactly like the beginning of every bad story Yuuri has ever heard from Diplomatic Security. Yuuri’s heard the tales of tourists going into small countries and meeting deceptively kind strangers who invite unsuspecting foreigners to dinner only to drug them and rob them. But Viktor seems to be a good guy – certainly not the type that would use physical force against Yuuri. Still, slowly, the question begins to creep in his mind: Is this some form of intimidation from the Government of Eglen? – He’s heard those type of stories, too, about being followed and finding things in your apartment moved, like some weird game of aggressive diplomatic footsie, but all of that seemed to be the myth of less friendly countries. Eglen was supposed to be a very friendly country.

“ _Dinner?_ ” Yuuri asks. His stomach growls and he wraps his arms around his middle protectively. Dinner does sound good, although Yuuri is still confused. He follows Viktor into a lovely two-bedroom apartment. It’s decorated sparsely, with mostly books filling every nook and cranny, including the bar separating the living room and kitchen.

“ _Make yourself comfortable_ ,” Viktor tells him, slipping off his coat to hang it on a rack by the door.

Yuuri follows suit, a little lost as he ambles around the apartment. He thinks to himself that he needs to keep his cool. He’s being treated well. Maybe this is just some strange aspect of Eglenian hospitality he has yet to witness. When Viktor invites him to sit by the kitchen island, Yuuri does, watching with hungry eyes as a spread of mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto is placed before him.

“White or red?” Viktor says in stilted Acireman. He raises two bottles of wine.

 _Kidnapping be damned,_ Yuuri thinks, _this is actual cheese!_

“ _Ah, red, please? And, sorry, can I charge my phone?_ ” he eventually asks in between stuffed mouthfuls of cheese on fresh, homemade bread. Viktor is a culinary delight, teasing every single one of Yuuri’s senses, from the sight of him in a professional looking apron to the smell of warm bread and the taste of fine wine. His apartment is nice. It feels lived in a way Yuuri’s own doesn’t, having only two months in country. Most of his stuff is still sitting at the port waiting for final clearance, including Vicchan’s favorite moose plushie and all the puppy photos Yuuri would otherwise litter on his walls. 

“ _Sure!_ ” Viktor beams, lending him a charger and pointing him in the direction of the closest battery backup and surge protector. He grates some fresh parmesan. “ _I’m making butternut squash risotto. I hope you’ll like it._ ”

“I’m sure I will,” Yuuri says to himself, feeling a lot better when he sees his phone flicker to live and remind him that he’ll probably have enough time to eat before he can extricate himself from Viktor’s smothering hospitality.

 .

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

Yuuri hasn’t had such a first-class meal in months. He almost licks his plate clean until he looks up just in time to find that Viktor’s been staring at him intently with his chin resting on his palm: “ _More?_ ” his host asks, already taking the plate to give him another couple scoops. Yuuri doesn’t even have time to refuse (and, why should he when squash is so incredibly expensive in country?). “ _I’m so glad you like the food._ ”

(“You looked like you wanted to eat me!” Yuuri will laugh, reminding his boyfriend of that first dinner. By his feet, Vicchan will try to chase his tail.

“I did,” Viktor will say, not the least bit ashamed. He’ll set a plate of risotto in front of Yuuri and kiss his nape, whispering in crisp Acireman, “happy anniversary, Yuuri.”)

“ _It was delicious!_ ” Yuuri tries to be polite, dabbing at his face. He stands, rapidly moving to reach for his phone, “ _uh, excuse me, can I use the facilities?_ Uh, restroom? Bathroom?”

“ _The facilities?_ ” Viktor asks, still confused by Yuuri’s outdated vocabulary, “Oh, yes, yes! Left door.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri feels relieved when he’s able to lock the door to the bathroom behind him. He’s incredibly full, patting at the bulge of his stomach. It’s more than a little embarrassing that he’s hiding out in a bathroom, about to call one of his colleagues to extricate him. “Uh, Minako? Yes, it’s, uh, it’s Yuuri. I seem to be in a situation. My car got stranded by the road and then my phone died…” he begins to explain, little by little painting a picture for Minako of how he ended up having dinner with a stranger. He fails to notice that he’s taking a long time in the bathroom. At Minako’s instruction, he flushes the toilet and turns on the faucet to make noise. It’s supposed to distract anyone trying to listen to his conversation.

“Do you feel sick or weird from the food?” she asks, reassuring him that she’s already on the way.

“No, no,” Yuuri whispers, cupping the receiver. He sits on the toilet, massaging his temples, “I feel fine. Well, maybe a little happy, but that’s the wine, I think?”

“Has he asked you any strange questions about what you do, where you work? Any requests to provide the government with sensitive information? I’ve seen this type of thing happen in larger cities, but this place seems too small for professionalized intelligence,” Minako explains, putting on her Security Officer hat, in capital letters. Yuuri has heard all the stories. He likes wine nights with Minako almost as much as he likes this one with Viktor.

“No, no,” Yuuri says, nervous, “do you think he’s trying to get me to give him classified information? Minako, what do I do?”

“Don’t worry; I’m just turning the corner now. Stay calm and in that bathroom.”

“ _Yuuri_?” Viktor knocks on the door, sounding incredibly concerned. “ _Are you alright? Did the food make you ill?_ ”

“No! _I’m fine. It’ll just be another minute,_ ” Yuuri yelps, sliding across the bathroom to press his back against the door. It’s a silly move; Viktor has no intention of trying to force the knob. Yuuri has gone into full panic mode, though, wondering if he made a mistake in calling Minako, who’s now speeding down the city’s only highway to reach him. “Minako, help, what do I do?”

“ _Okay_ ,” Viktor says, sounding almost happy, “ _I’ll make you some tea. I think the crème brulee is ready; you’ll have to try it…_ ”

“Stay calm and don’t eat or drink anything else,” she orders, and he can hear the engine turning off. “I’m on my way!”

Viktor is completely surprised when Minako shows up at his door with a gun. Yuuri looks guilty sitting on the sofa in front of a tray with two crème brulees and matching spoons. She arches an eyebrow, calling out Yuuri’s name. He stumbles from the living room into the hallway, practically speeding to slip on his jacket and stuff his phone into his pocket. Minako’s Eglenian is top-notch, and she speaks fluidly as she warns Viktor: “ _Kidnapping a diplomat is a high offense. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from the Ministry and the police come morning, Mister…?_ ”

(“What were you thinking that night?” Yuuri will ask him later, much later, playing with Viktor’s fingers. He’ll dip his spoon into the tub of homemade ice cream, moaning as his taste buds are assaulted with the tangy, creamy flavor of fresh strawberries. Viktor’s cooking will have improved exponentially, giving Yuuri a better idea of what an orgasm should really taste like.

“You like it?” Viktor will preen, brushing Yuuri’s hair back. “I’m so glad! I was worried. The shipment of strawberries this month came a little late and when I tried one, it was practically flavorless, like water, but maybe it was just that one strawberry.”

“Are you trying to ignore my question?”

“Maybe?” Viktor will shrug, grabbing Vicchan from the floor. Yuuri’s poodle will lick at Viktor’s chin, providing a nice distraction.)

 “ _I’m sure I will_ ,” Viktor chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the door. He seems amused. Yuuri is confused. He’s not sure he would laugh if someone told him that he might hear from the police. “ _Here, let me give you my identification number,_ ” Viktor offers, smile growing all the larger. His moves are fluid and elegant. Even his handwriting is pretty, all neat cursive. Acirema has all but lost the art of cursive, but it seems to live in Eglen, happy and content in the knowledge that beautiful people like Viktor still prefer it to blocky, thick, clumsy letters, much more like Yuuri’s own handwriting.

Minako practically snatches the paper from Viktor before dragging Yuuri out with her. Yuuri winces, already regretting not risking a call to J.J.

“ _Bye, Yuuri_ ,” Viktor waves.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

The second time it happens, Viktor drives by the Embassy's VIP entrance and Yuuri freezes instantly, waiting for the window to roll down. He's not expecting Viktor to speak to him, considering there's a headline in the Eglen Times that reads:  _Acireman Functionary Reportedly Kidnapped in Ice Bay District_. The details are generic and fuzzy, just enough to appease the curiosity of the small capital, but not so much that it would provide Viktor's name or apartment number, which is shocking given the regularity with which Eglenian media likes to publish granular bits of information. 

The window doesn't roll down, so Yuuri begins to wonder if maybe it's not, in fact, Viktor's car. All black SUVs with tinted windows look the same. And yet, he can't shake the odd feeling pooling in his belly. One of the guards asks him if he's alright in rough Acireman, motioning that he can always go back and wait to be escorted by a colleague, but the last thing he needs is Ambassador Feltsman fussing over him some more, and Phichit's already home. It's not good for his reputation to be coddled anyway (not after half the Embassy knows he went to see the Medical Officer over a recent spike in anxiety brought on by extended periods without sunshine and a complete reshuffling of section portfolios). 

He waves goodbye to the local guards at the entrance and starts walking down the cement pathway set around the compound on the way to the parking lot. 

As he moves, so does the car, turning in the complete opposite direction. Yuuri sighs in relief. Maybe they'd been waiting for a colleague that left already? He decides it's better not to think too much about it. The car keys jingle in his pocket just as he turns the corner, and before he knows it, a heavy arm wraps around his chest, pulling him into the car. Yuuri curses the moment his leg hits the side of the small step ladder built into the SUV. 

("You grabbed me and pulled me into a car," Yuuri will tell Viktor later, much, much later, like that's somehow meaningful enough for Viktor to share in his indignation. Viktor will not share in his indignation.  It will be the worst. "You grabbed me and pulled me into a car, Viktor. That's kidnapping."

"You're not a kid. I don't understand the penchant Aciremans have for lazily using words that don't make sense in context. I abducted you. I snatched you. I seized you. I did not kidnap you. You are not a child," Viktor will sniff the air, going back to washing the dishes. The suds will stick to his forearms, and Yuuri will watch the water bleed on the fabric of his rolled-up shirt. "Besides, you didn't complain."

"To think I ever thought you couldn't speak Acireman. You're actually a walking dictionary," Yuuri will scoff, crossing his arms. He’ll say in Eglenian (or attempts to say), " _I was in shock_."

"I don't think that's what you think it means," Viktor will laugh, hard and completely unsympathetic to Yuuri trying to speak a difficult language he will probably only ever use with his Eglenian boyfriend after he leaves Post.

"What did I say?"

"What were you trying to say?" 

Yuuri will shrug, speaking in his own language, "I was in shock."

"Yeah, no. You just said  _I was shook._ You keep trying to translate from Acireman, which makes it all the funnier. It would be  _I was shocked_. It already happened, Yuuri. Basic grammar rules apply in my language."

"Darn three tones. Why are words so similar in your language?"

"Because my language is logical. We group things together and change their meaning with the tone. Now, what do you want for dinner?"

"Not fish," Yuuri will sigh, running a hand through his hair. He'll be sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, watching Viktor pull out a frozen slab of fish.  

"Rude," Viktor will roll his eyes, poking at Yuuri's side as he walks to the refrigerator to bring out something else.)

"Viktor?" Yuuri asks, surprised. "Is that you?"

" _Hello,_ Yuuri _, I figured you might need a ride again._ "

"Uh,  _my car is over there, actually, but thanks? You can just drop me off in the corner and I can walk back._ "

("That's not what you said, though," Viktor will pout, cutting pieces of mozzarella wrapped in smoked, aged prosciutto. By then, Yuuri will have to admit that being in a country with little access to dairy will have made him obsessed with cheese. "You said,  _You can drop me; was just walking the corner back_."

"But that makes no sense!"

"Exactly. But who am I to judge?"

"Viktor."

"I didn't know your proclivities back then.")

Viktor drops him off in the corner, although not before giving him a small container with the most delicious apple crumble of Yuuri’s life. It’s so good, Yuuri almost weeps in the parking lot while stuffing his mouth with crust and cinnamon washed apple pieces. When one of his colleagues comes out of the building and waves at Yuuri, Yuuri waves back with sticky fingers, not even caring that he has bits of sugar stuck to his fingertips. He just waits until no one is around before he licks his fingers clean.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

The third time, Yuuri doesn't even question the fact that the SUV rolls to a stop next to him. He looks at his car keys and then at the open door, and decides that he now has enough guidance from security to feel empowered (or to be reckless with a purpose, like the few weeks after he'd finished special training and thought he really could drive like a stunt man or should start going in reverse at the first sign of litter on the road. In his defense, training dictated any object on the side of the road - even a can - could be a molotov cocktail or worse.) He gets into the car and Viktor gives him such a bright smile, Yuuri wishes he had sunglasses.

" _Is this, like, honey-potting? I learned about this in training_ ," he says in Eglenian, going straight for the jugular. He'd practiced the question all day with one of his local employees, blushing pink the entire time. It'd taken him a couple of trips to the dictionary to find the word and then some chocolate from the cafeteria for courage to ask someone if he was saying it correctly.

Viktor hits the brakes. He turns to look at Yuuri, just as a couple of cars speed past them with blaring horns. " _Excuse me?_ "

" _Honey-potting, when_ -"

" _I know what that means! I thought you had the wrong word again_ ," Viktor blinks in obvious shock. His face is red enough to rival the sunset. He eventually says in Yuuri's language, "No. This is not me trying to seduce you, at least not for the purpose of extracting intelligence from you. Why would you even ask me that? And, technically, we're both men so it would be, uh, honeydicking. Definitely not a pot."

It's the most Acireman that Yuuri has heard Viktor speak in all their interactions to date. It's weird. Yuuri blinks innocently, brows scrunched up in thought before he nods and asks, "how do you say that in Eglenian?"

" _Why do you need to know? Do a lot of Eglenian men come onto you regularly?_ ” Viktor asks, both bewildered and obviously upset.

“ _So, you are coming on me?_ ” Yuuri says before he can realize his mistake. He flushes bright pink, and Viktor laughs, almost veering off the road for a moment. “ _I meant to say—_ ”

“I know what you wanted to say. It’s okay. _Would you like to grab coffee? A new little shop just opened. They have macarons, and I figured you might be less likely to think I’m abducting you if we spend time together in a public place._ ”

Yuuri is amazed by Viktor’s Acireman. He’s almost thirsty to hear him speaking the language that makes Yuuri feel at home. He nods, almost relieved that they’re finally done with the pretense that this emerging pattern is in any way normal.  

The little café is amazing, with French baked goods and delicious drinks, including a raspberry lemonade that makes Yuuri want to weep from happiness. He’s been deprived of good food, mostly sticking to his colleagues, who regularly visit maybe two or three places on rotation. Viktor, though, seems to know the good hole-in-the-wall type of establishments where food is gourmet and, if not cheap, at least worth the expense. There isn’t any, though, when Viktor pulls out his wallet and turns to Yuuri to ask, “ _you’re sure you don’t want anything else?_ ” – And Yuuri is embarrassed, because he’d ordered a soup, a sandwich, half a dozen macarons, a cupcake, and a lemonade, all thinking he’d be paying for himself. Viktor doesn’t even seem to mind, despite having only ordered a pumpkin soup and quinoa salad. “ _You’re obviously deprived of good food_ ,” Viktor tells him, studying him as they eat in a little corner booth. “ _Does your Embassy keep you on a tight leash?_ ”

“ _I guess I don’t know the good places yet, and it’s so cold out, we rarely venture out._ ”

He doesn’t bother mentioning that he’s also shy and naturally anxious about wandering in unknown places where the language remains a huge barrier of entry into a culture in which everyone knows everyone already. It makes him feel like there’s almost no space for him. Maybe that’s what makes Viktor so special; he seems determined to make Yuuri feel like he could belong.

“ _Hm, well, there isn’t much here to be fair,_ ” Viktor admits, not the least offended as he grabs for a napkin to clean Yuuri’s mouth. “ _You eat like a little piggy. It’s cute._ ”

“ _How do you find these types of places anyway?_ ”

“ _Glen is growing fast. These little places are cropping up all over the place; it’s exciting. I used to live overseas and I often miss food, just like you. Fish gets old after some time. And, it’s nice to try them out with someone else,_ ” Viktor smiles, stealing a macaron from Yuuri’s place. Yuuri doesn’t miss the implication that Viktor might have been driving around town taking mental notes of new restaurants just to try them out with Yuuri.

“ _I get that_ ,” Yuuri smiles, licking his lips. “ _Well, if you ever find more places, I volunteer to check them out with you_.”

“ _Thank you, Yuuri. I’d like that_ ,” Viktor says, reaching across the table to squeeze Yuuri’s hand.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

The fourth time, Yuuri is waiting outside of his apartment. They've exchanged numbers and Yuuri knows to expect Viktor, seeing as they’ve been texting constantly. Vicchan, Yuuri’s dog-child, is sick. The usual veterinarian that treats the few Embassy pets has left the country to attend a regional conference on voting rights. It’s still weird to Yuuri that his personal veterinarian is also the first person he calls if he wants to learn about the voting regulations set by the Eglen Electoral Commission. Unfortunately for Yuuri, none of his colleagues have any options. Phichit shyly tells him, “there’s only, like, two other vets in country. No one knows where they got certified, so we stick to just one. I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

“ _Calm down, Yuuri_ ,” Viktor says, voice smooth and soothing. It’s like a caress. “ _I know a vet. I just got a poodle puppy myself. I’ll give him a call and bring him over._ ”

Vicchan’s head rests on Yuuri’s knee. His dog makes a miserable, whining sound before running off again to throw up on the carpet. This time, at least, the offending toy piece is finally regurgitated from his stomach. Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief, trying to crawl over to Vicchan’s side with a little bowl of water. His dog sniffs at the water, but refuses to drink.

When Viktor texts him that he’s three minutes out, Yuuri skips down the steps, rushing to meet him. Yuuri is surprised to find a motorcade of cars speeding in his direction. They have their emergency lights on. Yuuri wonders what’s going on until they stop right in front of his apartment. It’s late at night and the road is not well-lit, but he can easily make out Viktor when the door to one of the cars slams open. Viktor looks beautiful, dressed in a long coat just resting on his shoulders, like he just threw it on haphazardly. He’s wearing a tuxedo.

“Yuuri,” he says, breathing hard before he looks back inside the car and talks to someone in Eglenian. “ _Sorry I took so long. I was at work._ ”

“ _Y—you were at work? I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get you in trouble or—_ ”

“It’s fine,” Viktor smiles at him, speaking in Yuuri’s language. Yuuri realizes this is quickly becoming a thing. Viktor speaks to him in Yuuri’s language whenever he feels the need to reassure him of something. They haven’t known each other long, but it feels like _something_ , like it should be _something_ meaningful, at least. “This is Dr. Popovich. He’s the Government of Eglen’s Chief Veterinarian. He works with the Ministry of Agriculture.”

Yuuri gapes, shocked by the information.

“Georgi,” the doctor says with a curt nod. “ _Is Eglenian okay? My Acireman is rusty. I’d like to look at the dog, if it’s alright_.”

Yuuri nods, taking them up the stairs to his apartment, where Vicchan, now stable, still looks miserable on a mountain of blankets. Georgi gets to work, approaching slowly to make sure Vicchan doesn’t run.

“ _His throat might be a little bruised_ ,” Georgi explains when he’s done, shaking his head (and Yuuri feels like it’s an admonishment directed at him), “ _it’ll be fine in a few days, but he might keep gagging in the meanwhile. I’d like to do an x-ray, just to make sure everything is okay, but I’m not sure we have facilities like those for animals._ ”

“ _The local university should have a new lab_ ,” Viktor points out effortlessly, bringing out his cellphone to make a call. “ _Let me just call in a favor. We’ll get him what he needs, don’t worry._ ”

“ _Ah, no,_ ” Yuuri tries, but then he hears his dog coughing in the corner and doesn’t protest further. He stands by Viktor, feeling small and unimportant, watching a man he’s only seen a handful of times control what feels like the entire world from his cellphone. It’s the kind of power regular people can only have in small countries, he thinks, and tries not to think too much about how he’s going to explain any of this to Minako in the morning.

Later, when he has Vicchan swaddled in blankets, the sirens of an official motorcade whirring above his head, he thinks maybe these are the types of adventures Mari was referencing. It does feel like the beginnings of a story, riding in a fancy government vehicle with a gorgeous official and the country’s chief veterinarian on their way to sneak into a university lab after hours to get his dog an emergency x-ray in a country with almost no care for animals. Yuuri doesn’t bother asking Viktor who, exactly, he asked for the favor, or why, when they get to the university, no one stops to check their credentials.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

The fifth time, Yuuri waits outside of the Embassy. Viktor’s been out of the country for almost a week on some mysterious government business. Yuuri had made sure not to ask too many questions. Now, so close to seeing Viktor again, he feels giddy, like he’s about to take a big step into achieving some sense of normalcy and happiness in Eglen. He breathes into his cupped hands, trying to keep himself warm as he bounces from one leg to the other. When the car stops, he wastes no time in jumping into the comfort of the heater blasting at full capacity.

"Hi Yuuri," Viktor says, wasting no time as he leans down to kiss Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri is relieved he wasn’t the only one who came into their planned reunion with expectations.

“Hi Vikor,” Yuuri grins, strapping on his seatbelt. He pulls out a manila folder, hands shaking as he says, “ _Hey, I need you to answer some questions so I can report to the Security Office that I’m maybe dating a national of another country._ ”

Yuuri can only hope the message is plenty clear.

“ _I thought usually those things were to determine if there were any dangers from cohabitation_ ,” Viktor muses out loud, but extends out a hand to take the folder. He sets it on his own lap, driving them parallel to the seawall, which gives a stunning view of deep blue waters. “ _Are you hungry?_ ”

“ _Very much_ ,” Yuuri nods, “ _I wanted to invite you to my house for once, though_. _I’d like to make you something for a change._ ”

“Yuuri, so full of surprises,” Viktor says in Acireman, and, like always, hearing his language on Viktor’s tongue makes Yuuri swoon, “I’d be honored to try your food!”

“Great. It’s a pork cutlet bowl,” Yuuri tells him, already searching his phone for a picture. At the next red light, Yuuri shows Viktor the image. “What do you think?”

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

“Wow! Amazing!” Viktor gasps, digging in almost immediately. “ _Delicious!_ ”

Yuuri chuckles, wringing the kitchen towel nervously as he goes back to the stove to start up on another batch. He has a good feeling Viktor is going to want seconds. As he cooks, he takes mental stock of the evening – from the warm hearth of the fire crackling in his fireplace to the sound of Viktor laughing close to his ear as he insistently pushes a piece of pork against Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri takes a small bite, savoring with each chew the flavor as it explodes on his tongue, wanting nothing more than to drink the sight of Viktor all over his apartment. Vicchan tries to scratch at their legs, begging for a taste, too.

After a while, Yuuri gets Vicchan settled for sleep in his crate. Alone, they end up sitting on the floor, filling out forms on the coffee table. Neither of them seem to care that the pristine white sheets of paper are slowly growing darker with the effects of oil stains.

“You cook like you look,” Viktor compliments him, nipping under his ear.

“Yeah, and how’s that?” Yuuri plays along, resting a hand on the inside of Viktor’s thigh.

“Uh, how do you say, _decadent_?”

When Viktor locks eyes with Yuuri, their noses bump together. Yuuri feels Viktor’s breath ghost against his lips.

Viktor makes the first move, dipping down to taste Yuuri’s lips. His mouth succumbs almost instantly, taking in morsel by morsel the taste of Viktor mixed with Yuuri’s cooking. It’s a perfect mixture between his forever home and his borrowed house, and Yuuri realizes Viktor so easily fits somewhere in between, like the hungry middle gap in a Venn diagram, just ready to be everything. Yuuri worries because that’s the type of promise that can be so dangerous: Viktor could be Yuuri’s everything, if only Yuuri let him.

The fact they’re filling paperwork together (or more like Viktor is writing answers while Yuuri stares at his profile), with Viktor trusting Yuuri so wholly and completely with his entire life, makes it feel like Viktor is all in for the promise, too.

“ _How about dessert, then?_ ” Yuuri whispers, voice hoarse with want.

Viktor arches an eyebrow, “ _you have something cooking in the oven?_ ”

“No,” Yuuri shakes his head before pushing Viktor down against the rug.

(“That’s not what you said!” Viktor will sing, as he waves around his wooden spoon over the stove. “You said, _how about I feed you something sweet_. It was so much dirtier than what you intended, Yuuri. So dirty. I should’ve known then you were just out to corrupt me.”

“How is that not the same thing?” Yuuri will ask, rolling his eyes. He will elbow Viktor aside to taste the sauce.

Viktor will tap his chin with his middle finger, looking out into the distance, “well, considering I ate out of your _honeypot_ and sucked your—”

“Viktor!” Yuuri will flush red, slapping his shoulder. He’ll look down at the floor, noticing how their two poodles watch them with strange fascination. Makkachin has far outgrown Vicchan, but her eyes detail an innocence so earnest that it makes Yuuri want to hug her and weep. “Not in front of the puppies, Viktor. Think of Makkachin.”)

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

Yuuri brings the paperwork the next day, looking like he’s a step away from throwing himself over the seawall. How could he not have known? Phichit gets a good laugh out of Yuuri’s story, fanning himself with the folder. Rationally, Yuuri knew Viktor worked for the government. There was no other explanation for the sleek black car and the nice house and travel (and, of course, all the favors he’d pulled for Vicchan), but he had not expected _this_ , not _this.._.

“How did you not notice you were dating our Desk Officer?” Phichit whispers, like this is the worst thing Yuuri has done (and not a natural consequence of Yuuri thinking all Eglenians are equally beautiful and, thus, must look the same). “Please don’t say it.”

“All Eglenian people look the same to me sometimes?” Yuuri offers, only a little embarrassed as he tries to hide his face in his palms. It’s embarrassing. Viktor is one of their two Country Desk Officers at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, tasked with following every development on Acirema and attempting to be generally helpful as the Embassy’s main working level contact at the Ministry. This means Yuuri, as a Political Officer, has regularly talked to Viktor on the phone, potentially e-mailed him, and, even more likely, delivered demarches to him. Yuuri has probably gone to Viktor’s office, sat in front of him, and delivered the equivalent of a diplomatic slap on the wrist. He’s read paragraphs of information to Viktor and taken notes on his comments, only to report back on Viktor’s thoughts. And not once, not a single time, had Yuuri looked up, not enough to memorize his face.

“I told you not to say it,” Phichit flinches, patting Yuuri’s shoulder. “Well, at least you found out early on. It’s not like you got very far with him. Can you imagine if you’d slept with him? Now _that_ would be embarrassing to report!”

Yuuri groans even louder, turning a startling shade of pink.

Phichit gasps, “Yuuri, you didn’t!”

“Phichit, he’s so beautiful,” Yuuri sighs longingly, “and it’s been a while and I didn’t know.”

“Well, you better go report that to Minako,” Phichit tisks. “Oh Yuuri, how could you?”

“Stop shaming me. You have a foreign diplomat living with you, so you have no room to talk.”

“Yes,” Phichit shrugs, “but at least I had Chris vetted before sleeping with him. And he had long received clearance before his heating system shutdown. It was practically a humanitarian emergency; his landlord was out of the country! I couldn’t just leave him in that cold apartment to freeze to death, Yuuri. Can you imagine the headlines? _Acireman Diplomat Lets Ally Die in Refrigerator Apartment_. Okay, that one isn’t as good, but—”

“So, you used body heat instead before deciding he should move into your bedroom permanently?”

“It was necessary!” Phichit sniffs, trying to underscore the tragedy, “His little toe had already started turning blue!”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, snatching the folder from his friend. He looks over the forms again, focusing on Viktor’s last name for a moment. Phichit frowns, peering over his shoulder again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nikiforov?” Yuuri points out, feeling a sudden sense of dread. “Do you think he’s related to the President’s family?”

“Well, the President does have an extensive family, which explains why Nikiforov is a common last name. I’m sure it’s nothing, Yuuri. Honestly, even if he was a cousin, what’s Minako going to do? You already banged him, so, really, if she tells you not to see him again—”

“She’d do that?” Yuuri pouts.

“Stop thinking about it,” Phichit pats his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you over to her office so you can turn in those papers, and then we’ll grab some pancakes from the cafeteria and try to get some work done before someone comes and tries to task us with something for tomorrow’s diplomatic luncheon. Apparently, the President of Eglen will be there, so you know we’re about to be asked to do something.”

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

The hall of mirrors is beautiful.

Yuuri has only seen it once before when he had to take notes for Ambassador Yakov Feltsman when he met with President André Nikiforov. He had followed the President’s protocol officer and the Ambassador up a long set of stairs, drinking in everything with amazement, from the thick, expensive curtains to the classical art hanging on the glossy wallpaper, which had embossed in gold the seal of the Presidential Palace.  Now, at least, he was prepared for the opulence, even if he would never get used to the hall of mirrors. It was like walking inside a crystal. Yuuri just wants to gawk for hours.

“It looks good, right?” Sara pipes in next to him, handing him a thick stack of paper. As one of the Embassy’s Management Officers, she’d had to help the Public Relations Officer with the planning of the event. Hosting the annual diplomatic luncheon was always a high honor, and Ambassador Feltsman had certainly taken to the duty with incredible diligence. He’d naturally demanded the same from his entire staff.

Yuuri nods, giving her a bright smile, “it looks amazing, Sara. You did great.”

“Thanks! I hope it goes alright. We were so worried when Phichit let us know the Denens hadn’t received their invitations. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah, good thing that incident stayed at the domestic level, literally,” Yuuri chuckles, watching from the corner of his eye as Phichit escorts his boyfriend Chris and the Denen Ambassador and Deputy Chief of Mission over to one of the tables in the first line. From Chris, Yuuri had learned that the Denen Ambassador was considered, by all standards, particular in his tastes (to remain diplomatic). Unfortunately, Chris was part of an Embassy of three, caught between two bosses that didn’t seem to have professional chemistry. It was something Chris mourned often in between drinks at Phichit’s house on pizza nights. “Hey, do you know where I’m sitting?”

“With Phichit and the Denens,” she chirped, patting his shoulder. “Hey! Where do you think you’re hanging that? Sorry, Yuuri, I better go fix that. Are you crazy? Where is the press liaison?”

Yuuri watches her go, more than a little dazed standing in between so many tables as people start filtering into the room.

“ _Hello, love._ ”

Yuuri laughs, turning around just in time to press a fast kiss against Viktor’s lips. No one notices them as they move to the edge of the room. Yuuri drinks in Viktor’s form, impressed to see him wearing a crisp, black suit tapered at the waist. A few gold chords hang from his shoulder. White gloves call attention to Viktor’s long fingers. Yuuri flushes pink, taking a step back: “ _You’re working the event?_ ”

“ _Part of the President’s detail_ ,” Viktor chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows like they’re sharing some kind of interesting, funny joke. Yuuri isn’t sure why that would be funny. Instead, he’s horrified that he just shamelessly kissed someone in the President’s detail in plain view, where anyone could have seen them, including Yuuri’s own Ambassador. Viktor doesn’t seem to be as worried. He’s shameless as he rests his hand on Yuuri’s lower back. “ _You look beautiful_. _I like the official look_.’

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “ _Ah, you mean my I-put-effort-today look?_ ”

“Is that what we call gelled back hair and no glasses?” Viktor says in Acireman, accent showing when he says, “I like it. _Anyway, I should go check in with the protocol officer, but look for me later? I want to introduce you to someone._ ”

Yuuri nods, watching him go.  

Mila is the one that finds Yuuri, looking perturbed when she approaches him. Yuuri gives her a smile, trying to be friendly. Mila is one of Yuuri’s local employees. She’s great at her job and Yuuri really respects her opinion – at least enough to ask her how to say the word _honeypot_ in Eglenian.

“Uh, boss?” she says, wringing her hands.

Yuuri stands straight almost immediately, “What is it? Is the Opposition Leader here?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “uh, I was just. I couldn’t help but notice that you have a new _friend_.”

Yuuri’s cheeks heat up almost instantly, “Oh! Yeah. I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

Of course, someone was bound to see them. He’s sure Mila will have quite a few choice pieces of advice. Eglenians aren’t particularly averse to public displays of affection, though. He wonders if maybe there’s some type of protocol or etiquette rule he just broke. 

“It’s fine,” she whispers, looking uncertain. Yuuri’s never seen Mila look uncertain about anything. She tackles tasks with the force of a puppy attacking food. “I was just surprised. I mean, we just don’t deal a lot with Viktor Nikiforov, even if he is a contact at the MFA, so I was just, just shocked, is all. Shocked to, uh, see how close you two are now.”

Yuuri frowns, “why? Why don’t we deal much with him? Does he have a bad reputation? Is he under investigation?”

Mila gasps, shaking her head, “No! Who would investigate the President’s son?”

**TBC**


	2. First Class Seat On My Lap (Boy, Riding Comfortable)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that Italics within quotation marks are used to denote the use of the Eglenian language. These countries are completely fake.
> 
> An omake will follow as a Chapter 3 with a surprise.

The president’s son. _Right._

The national animal of Eglen is the penguin. Yuuri had learned that after taking to Wikipedia to learn everything he could about Eglen. He’d held his little flag tight to his chest, reading over summaries of the country’s politics and economics in the library of the Acireman Diplomatic Academy. Naturally, Yuuri had found it odd that there were penguins in the north. Now, he knows it’s just as strange as everything else that happens in Eglen—including Yuuri being introduced to the Eglenian President. Not because Yuuri had never expected to meet the President (because he’d known at some point he would!) but because Yuuri was being introduced to President André Nikiforov as (his son) Viktor Nikiforov’s boyfriend.

(The penguin was a gift from the first county to recognize Eglen’s independence. It was not only the national mascot but considered Eglen’s most prized cultural patrimony, with a strict visitors’ schedule and a guest book. After all, the penguin was technically knighted, or some sort of equivalent. Maybe it was supposed to be an honorary member of Parliament? Yuuri can’t remember then.)

Yuuri was being introduced to the president of a country filled with supermodels (and a thriving fish export industry) as the diplomatic functionary who had so carelessly defiled his son on top of a rug. He’d essentially given rug burn to a diplomatic emissary working in the Eglenian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Yuuri thought he was going to pass out.

Viktor spoke to his father in lightning fast Eglenian, hands moving rapidly and waving over in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri was incapable of following the exchange at all. His Eglenian, although vastly improving, was nowhere near native levels. However, in his mind, Yuuri was sure (with a degree of inaccuracy only achieved by his imminent panic attack) that Viktor was telling his father, “ _And this is the man that ate all my prosciutto! And then he also ate my ass—_ ”

“Yuuri?” Viktor beams, pressing a soft hand to his lower back. It takes Yuuri a minute to realize he’s speaking in Acireman. Although as accented as usual, his Acireman is good, smooth, with words rolling out with considerable ease. Viktor had told Yuuri he’d studied in Acirema for a time. He pulls him forward gently, “I want you to meet my father, President of the Republic of Eglen André Nikiforov. Father, as I mentioned, this is Yuuri, my boyfriend.”

Yuuri takes the hand of the smiling head of state with a dip of dread in his stomach. He tries to remember all his protocol training, so carefully instilled in him by Mila, who was just watching him a few steps away. Yuuri forces out a smile, “It’s an honor, Your Excellency.”

To be clear, Yuuri and Viktor had never formally discussed being boyfriends. They had discussed _dating_ and filled out all the necessary paperwork. But being _boyfriends_? That required a different form. _Maybe._ Yuuri wasn’t sure, but he felt the strong compulsion to turn on his heels and run to tell Minako.

(“We definitely discussed it!” Viktor will pout, upset to hear Yuuri say otherwise.

Yuuri will arch an eyebrow, “When?”

“When we were in the car and you gave me this folder with papers I needed to fill out?” Viktor will say, trying to remind him of the day now so long ago. “You said, _hello, I have some questions. I need to report to the Office of Security Officials that I’m in relationship with the national of another country._ It was a little sloppy, but cute, and you’d said more of a complete and rational sentence than you had before. And then I asked you, because I wanted to be clear, and so I took the forms. I thought it was all settled, especially because then you cooked for me and we—”

“Oh my god! I was asking you to fill out the forms because I felt we were veering into dating territory!”

Viktor will gasp, shock and hurt evident on his face, “You mean to say that you _accidentally_ asked me to be your boyfriend? Yuuri! I’m so hurt! I thought you were trying to be polite and test my interest. Instead, you were just covering yourself.”

Yuuri will take Viktor’s face between his palms then.

“No, don’t even try it. I’m upset.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri will grin, “However it happened doesn’t matter now, because I’m just glad it did.”

“Really?”

“Really. Because now I get to marry you.”

And Viktor will smile. Then, they will kiss (and eat Viktor’s famous homemade pasta, sprinkled with fresh parmesan and a sauce so delightful, Yuuri’s toes curl,) barely thinking about the incident anymore.)

“Yuuri,” President Nikiforov says, and Yuuri gives him another strained smile. “A pleasure to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying Glen City and that Viktor is showing you the best Eglen has to offer. If there’s anything we can ever do for you, do not hesitate to ask. In Eglen, we take _family_ seriously.”

 _Family._ The word haunts Yuuri for the rest of the reception.

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

It gets both complicated _and_ simple after that.

Minako warns him about potential concerns and possible conflicts of interest. Yuuri also has to meet with Ambassador Feltsman to get the equivalent of a shovel speech on behalf of the Acireman government. Never in his life did Yuuri think he would feel that he was cheating on his country. Still, he decides he can handle this; he can handle being in a relationship with Viktor. Of course, this all happens after he has a few drinks with Phichit and Chris and bemoans to them about how much happier he felt in Eglen with Viktor around. Whereas before Yuuri had almost questioned if he should stay in Eglen, now he couldn’t imagine leaving—even if that was only thanks to the compromise of enjoying Viktor’s company.

“It’s not that complicated now that you have permission from the Embassy,” Phichit reminds him, looking the perfect picture of relationship goals with Chris. They lean against each other, holding hands as they stare at Yuuri from across the table. Viktor has yet to arrive for their double-date dinner. This gives Yuuri the perfect opportunity to soundboard with his friends. “You both just have to be clear about what you want and how serious you’re willing to get. I mean, this is all temporary unless you’re willing to look into marriage.”

“Marriage?!” Yuuri almost chokes on his drink. It’s too soon to think about anything remotely related to marriage. Viktor is part of a well-respected political family with aspirations of his own and family expectations to live up to. Unless Yuuri is suddenly willing to live in Eglen forever, he’s not sure the concept of marriage would even make sense between them.

“But, just because it may end doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to share good food and excellent sex,” Chris reassures Yuuri. He fills their wine glasses all over again. “Just be clear with him about what you want. Phichit and I made a contract. Nothing formal. But it’s been good for us.”

Phichit nods, “we check in with each other regularly. We figured out how to divide bills and deal with pets and everything. And it helped us to understand that this relationship will only last for as long as we’re both here together. Chris has no intention of leaving his job and neither do I. Right, Chris?”

“I don’t know that I could do that. I don’t know that I can do that,” Yuuri sighs. “But you’re right. I should talk to him. Make sure this is something he’d be okay with…”

  .

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

Except, he doesn’t even try to talk to Viktor.

Instead, Yuuri basks in his newfound happiness. He gets so many invites to all types of events, it causes a little friction with his colleagues—except for Phichit, who remains supportive, and Mila, who gets the invites when Yuuri can’t go to something. After all, the level of access Yuuri has now is unprecedented: In the last month, he’s attended two dinners at the president’s house; a special reception for members of Parliament; and received free tickets to attend the national theater and ballet with Viktor. His life is beyond what he would’ve expected, including taking a shot of vodka with the country’s Prime Minister, who just so happens to be Viktor’s godfather. He loves every bit of it, right down to staying the night at Viktor’s apartment, or cuddling with their dogs during lazy Sundays at Yuuri’s apartment. Not once has Yuuri ever considered work when he’s been with Viktor. Now, he starts thinking that was naïve. After all, the least Yuuri can do is be careful.

Naturally, he both expects and yet remains insulted when his colleagues start giving him _points_ to pass along—through Viktor—to higher level interlocutors in the Eglen Government. Yuuri turns them all away, running to Minako’s office with a bubble in his chest the size of Pete the Penguin accepting visitors at the National Zoo. He doesn’t want this for his relationship with Viktor. As it is, Yuuri struggles with talking to Viktor about their relationship; how is he supposed to bring up work, too?

“He’s my boyfriend!” Yuuri says, frustrated, “I can’t bother him with work. We don’t ever even talk about work. This is out of line. I’m a diplomat, not a spy.”

“You’ve had that conversation with him before?” Minako arches an eyebrow (and Yuuri wrings his hands, knowing well that he hasn’t), “Because all these invitations, Yuuri. I’m sure _someone_ is asking you about work, even if it’s not Viktor. They have to be. You have to be very careful. If you are making a full decision—as you should—to keep your private and professional life separate, then you might want to consider talking to Viktor and making some changes…?”

Yuuri hugs his work binder tight against his chest, “I understand. I know what I have to do. I just need a little time. Things are in such a good place right now.”

Minako shakes her head, “Look, Yuuri, as good a friend as you are to me, I can’t advice you on this. Just do the best you can. And if anything _,_ and I do mean, anything at all ever gets weird, keep checking in with me. Acirema doesn’t care about your personal life, but it does care about whether you’re able to perform your duties and defend Acireman policy goals and objectives. Understood?”

(“Ridiculous!” Viktor will scoff later, much later, saying in Eglenian, “ _Like we care so much about Acireman secrets. That is what is wrong with your country—”_

“Viktor!” Yuuri will say, flustered. He will sigh, drinking from the glass of wine in front of him. Sometimes, discussing their past and what happened or didn’t happen can lead to moments of frustration for them both. “It’s _my_ country. And soon it will be your country, too. Please? – If we can’t talk about these things, then—”

“No, sorry, Yuuri, you’re right,” Viktor will reach for his hand and kiss his knuckles, kiss his ring. “ _Sorry. It’s just hard for me. I didn’t realize how much you struggled being with me._ ”)

  .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

Yuuri can’t do it. He’s floating around the buffet table of a reception when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“ _Why, hello stranger. Fancy seeing you here,_ ” Viktor whispers against his ear, and Yuuri immediately shoves him away on seeing JJ and his wife Isabella in the distance. He turns to face him with a bright red face. Viktor looks surprised. He also looks a little hurt. “Yuuri, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he tells him. Yuuri steps closer, reaching for Viktor’s cheeks to bring him down for a fast kiss. It’s a quick peck. “ _Sorry. I was surprised._ _We just can’t do those kind of things in public. I get nervous and worried._ ”

“You get noodles and worry?” Viktor asks him in Acireman, looking floored by his confession.

“Wait, what?” Yuuri pauses for a moment and then laughs, “No! I get nervous and worried.”

“Oh,” Viktor grins, chuckling at his boyfriend’s slight mispronunciations. “You realize Glen City is small. Everyone knows we’re dating. It’s okay. You don’t have to feel so shy, Yuuri. But if it makes you worried, I can respect that.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes, of course!_ So long as you agree to come to my house tomorrow night so I can make you actual noodles—and so you won’t worry. I make a delicious homemade pasta.”

Yuuri grins. There’s something about Viktor that makes him feel like he’s floating every time. His stomach also seems to agree that going to dinner at Viktor’s sounds like a phenomenal idea. 

“I’d love that. _I love you_ ,” Yuuri tells him, soft and vulnerable. He doesn’t exactly intend for that to come out, but once the words are out, he doesn’t feel any need to take them back. He does _love_ Viktor—for everything he’s done to make home out of a place that otherwise felt cold and foreign to Yuuri, no matter how hard he tried. Through Viktor, Yuuri gets to experience a different Eglen. It’s a dream he wants to keep all to himself for as long as he can. He knows that once his two years are over and his relationship with Viktor comes to an end, he won’t be able to come back to this moment, to _this_ Eglen that belongs to Yuuri and Viktor and their love. 

A soft pink shade dusts over Viktor’s nose.

“Yuuri,” he whispers, almost gasping. It’s the first time Yuuri notices that Viktor’s smile is like a heart. “You mean it?”

And Yuuri nods, “Yeah, I love you.”

.

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

Eglen strikes oil. It changes everything, including Yuuri and Viktor’s relationship. Yuuri knows from peripheral conversations that Viktor has been lobbying his father to consider renewable energy research and opportunities to diversify the country’s energy grid. The finding throws off most of Viktor’s plans, if the news is anything to go by. Naturally, Viktor is worried about something to do with work all the time now, so he wants to talk about it with Yuuri—because Yuuri _is_ his boyfriend. This should be normal, except it’s not, because Viktor wants to talk about the meeting he had with his father, and this is Yuuri’s work. He doesn’t want to _know_ , not like this, because it feels so much like betraying Viktor’s trust.

“Stop, please.”

Viktor stops rolling out the dough: “What?”

“You can’t talk to me about work like this, Viktor,” Yuuri explains, voice soft. He looks a little nervous as he keeps scrolling through his phone. “Remember where I work.”

“Remember where you work?” Viktor smirks, reaching for a kitchen towel to clean his hands. “I can’t forget that, _love_. Why don’t you explain yourself a little bit better? Aciremans always seem to be overly polite in splicing words instead of saying what they mean.”

“That’s not true. Anyway, I’ve just been thinking that maybe we should start keeping our personal lives and our work lives separate. Like, totally separate.”

Viktor frowns, “I’m not sure I understand. Don’t we do that now?”

“No?” Yuuri squints. “Not really. I mean, I guess dinners with your father aren’t exactly work, but people do talk a lot about different things that could be seen as work. And, outside of the theater events, all those invitations…? I think my colleagues are starting to see them as opportunities to get me to raise work and network more; either that, or as overstepping into their portfolios. It all just got me thinking that I just, I like what we have now, without the work.”

“Those invitations are coming to you as my boyfriend, Yuuri, not because you’re a lowly third secretary in the Acireman Embassy,” Viktor sniffs, dismissing him to return to his cutting board. “A third secretary wouldn’t get those invitations. Even in my small country, we have standards.”

Yuuri tries not to feel hurt by the implication. It’s true. He clears his throat.

“Then maybe those need to stop, too.”

“But why?”

“Or just send them to my house?” Yuuri sighs. He wants to find a compromise that won’t make Viktor look like Yuuri’s a step away from kicking a dog. This is a lot more complicated than he expected. A part of him is thankful that they’re able to have these conversations in Acireman. He’s not sure he could have approached them if they’d still been keeping to Eglenian, no matter how much Yuuri has to practice (and has been practicing for Viktor). He gulps, hard. “Don’t be upset?”

“I’m not upset,” Viktor says a little more quietly. He punctuates every word with a few clouds of flour as he tries to get the dough just right. “The implication that I should be makes me question whether I need to be upset, but I’m not. I understand. You’re uncomfortable and having a hard time at work. I’ll remember not to inconvenience you with my thoughts about the political environment of _my_ country.”

“Viktor, that’s not what I meant. I want you to feel like you can vent your feelings to me. I want you to talk to me. But this relationship is complicated. All I’m asking is for you to be conscious of what we talk about and to keep it personal, away from work. Actually, maybe we should talk about a few other things, too.” Yuuri tries to make himself useful. He tries to wipe the table. “Phichit was telling me how he and Chris were very clear about the parameters of their relationship, especially because, you know, it’s complicated.”

“Yes, but we’re not complicated, Yuuri,” Viktor smiles. “My father loves you. I love you. _There is no reason to worry so much, love._ _You’re just a little on edge. But I will take care of you tonight—a little food, some good wine, and then some cuddles._ ”

“ _I’m not on edge. I want to talk about this._ Just because you switch to Eglenian to try to shut me up doesn’t mean I’m not going to raise this again, Viktor.”

Viktor frowns, “Who is trying to shut you up? I resent that statement. I want an apology.”

“Oh, so you didn’t just switch to a language I struggle with because you didn’t want to talk about the fact that I’m seventeen months from leaving Eglen? Because it feels like we’re moving so fast that we should discuss it. I don’t want to hurt you, Viktor. And I don’t want to get hurt either.”

“Then we just don’t hurt each other! Easy! We have seventeen months to see what happens.”

“Viktor, I’m going to leave Eglen eventually. Before meeting you, I had even considered leaving sooner, so we do need—”

Viktor drops his knife, shocked, “Are you genuinely choosing now to tell me that not only do you intend to break up with me before you leave but that you also think my country is some horrible place to be?”

“That is not what I said!” Yuuri huffs, crossing his arms. “Don’t put words in my mouth; I have never said that. But you do have to admit this place isn’t easy for anyone that isn’t from Eglen!”

(“That is very much what you said,” Viktor will slide into the seat next to Yuuri. Later, of course, much later, during a dinner at Yuuri’s apartment. He will look beautiful and dignified in a charcoal gray suit, and the dogs will sit by their feet and beg with their eyes. “You called it the frozen little toe of the world just the other week, again! We're in the north, Yuuri!”

“It wasn’t!” Yuuri will defend himself, pointing his fork in Viktor’s direction, “It is so not at all what I said. Or not what I meant, you know?—I’m just not a _cold_ _weather_ person and it was hard before you.”)

  .

_Eglen and Acirema_

. 

Ambassador Feltsman comes into Yuuri’s shared office. He doesn’t even say a word, pointing to Yuuri and motioning for him to follow. It’s been a couple of weeks since Yuuri had his “fight” with Viktor. (And ever since, Phichit has been pushing him to go see him with some flowers, because Yuuri apparently needs “to eat that food; you’re getting _hangry_.” It’s not true. Yuuri has been perfectly civil to everyone. He only almost lost it _once_ on that company that couldn’t understand why their potential business opportunity was actually a total conflict of interest and—“Yuuri, you’re hangry. Whatever he was feeding you, you need it,” Phichit rolls his eyes, like it’s the most rational explanation in the world.) They’ve talked marginally, mainly through texts, but they haven’t decided when might be a good time to talk. Viktor needs space. He’s made it clear.

Yuuri wants to give him that space.

When Ambassador Feltsman gives Yuuri a printed email and says, “I need you to demarche your boyfriend,” Yuuri wants the floor to swallow him whole. Again, Yuuri’s been making good progress with Viktor, but he’s not sure they’re ready to see each other. He takes the letter and goes back to the office with his instructions. It’s not like he can refuse. This is his job.

“You okay?” Phichit asks him.

Yuuri shakes his head, “I need to go demarche Viktor.”

Phichit gags, “Seriously? You’re having some tough luck, buddy. Want me to do it for you? – I don’t mind. I can also let you know if he asks for you. Maybe he’s ready to make up.”

Technically, Viktor didn’t say they weren’t boyfriends anymore. There’s that. Yuuri desperately wants to send Phichit because, despite the one silver lightning, the reality is that Viktor’s last texts have been curt and overly formal or just one-word answers.

“I know!” Yuuri groans. “Yes, but I can’t. Ambassador Feltsman assigned me. I just need to hope he keeps it professional. I mean, that’s what this is all about, right?”

“Yup. Just don’t get PNGed! That’d be tough to explain to the Ministry back home.”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Yuuri pouts, reaching for his phone to call Mila and ask her to set up an appointment. It’s certainly not funny. Yuuri knows the fact Phichit even says the words _persona non grata_ is a testament to the closeness of their working relationship; they would never joke about it otherwise, not with the way things are tense elsewhere right now. Still, it puts him on edge.

All he can think about is how he should’ve never started dating an Eglenian.

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

 _Demarches_ are only means of communication between governments, like glorified hand-delivered letters. They’re not supposed to feel like diplomatic hand slaps, but that’s how Yuuri feels as he waits in the lobby at the center of a five-office suite sharing small, anxious looks with the team’s secretary. When Viktor walks out, Yuuri can see him visibly wince the moment he spots Yuuri perusing through a coffee table book. Yuuri wonders if he expected Phichit or Mila.

“Mr. Katsuki,” Viktor says, polite and formal as he walks out to shake his hand. The smile he wears is something akin to indifference. “Pleasant seeing you here. I hear you have a demarche for me?”

“Y—yes. It’s very short, but I was asked to deliver in person, since we can’t leave behind any paper,” Yuuri looks away. He reaches for his briefcase.

“Well, come in, please.”

Yuuri follows Viktor into his office. It’s a nice office, small but with a set of lovely bookcases, a desk, a computer, and a small roundtable for visitors like Yuuri. Once they’re both seated opposite one another, Viktor pulls out a black moleskin and a sterling silver pen with his initials: “How can I help you?” he asks, scribbling a date on the page.

“T—the Government of Acirema gives responsibility to the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries through its Food Safety and Inspection Service to ensure meat, poultry, processed egg products are safe, wholesome, and accurately labeled for consumption, in line with the National Food Inspection Act. An amendment to the act in 20XX extended jurisdiction over certain types of fish. Since then, we have been in consistent and open communication with our closest trading partners in the sector to ensure new inspection and importation requirements are implemented within the mandatory time frames with as little disruption to market entry as possible. We are grateful to your government for its timely responses and cooperation. We look forward to continued collaboration to the mutual benefit of our two countries. In line with the success of these previous changes, the Acireman Parliament has voted on additional regulations. The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries remains concerned that, given the new set of aggressive overhauls to Acireman policy, certain countries, Eglen included, may be in potential risk of non-compliance and—”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor interrupts, “But I believe Eglen complied promptly with all previously requested changes.”

Yuuri’s voice shakes only a little as he continues reading, “—Acirema is prepared to provide assistance through the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries to countries which may have similar concerns. Although an official announcement has yet to be released by our Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, we are currently in the process of communicating with our closest trading partners regarding potential changes that could affect their domestic fishing industry’s ability to accommodate new regulations. Shortly after the announcement, we will be releasing in letter format directly to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Natural Resources and Fisheries further information for the Eglen Government to reply—”

“Unbelievable,” Viktor scoffs, chuckling under his breath. “You came here to tell my government that we did great with the first set of changes, but now you’ve moved the bar so high that you’re worried even long-time trading partners may not be able to accommodate your new regulations while expecting us to do so to not lose an important trading market for our primary, main-income generating industry?” Viktor sighs, palm extended upward in resignation as he says, “So, either we comply or my country starves, I understand.”

He looks tired and worried. Yuuri doesn’t pick that up, then, though. He’s wired with all the feelings and things he hasn’t been able to say in the last couple of weeks, so much so that he’s blind to tone then. They’re both incredibly patriotic, wholly in love with their countries, but Yuuri can’t imagine talking policy when he’s overcome with nerve about the bedroom politics left at a standstill between them. Eglen just doesn’t feel like any type of home without Viktor, but he’ll be damned if he lets Viktor pettily bring their issues into an insulting conversation against Yuuri’s country. 

“That’s not,” Yuuri balks, hands clenching around the paper. “That’s not it at all. We don’t want anyone to fail, certainly not a large trading partner – we rely heavily on imports from Eglen, but we also cannot fight politics. I mean, policy _._ We just implement.”

“Right, because this isn’t just one more in a very recent but pointed trend on behalf of Acirema to practice protectionist policies to appease small industries with big voices, but few resources,” Viktor closes his notebook. “Is that all, Mr. Katsuki? I need to go report to my superiors.”

“No, it isn’t,” Yuuri purses his lips. “I think you’re being very unfair right now, Viktor. I get that _we_ ’re fighting, but this shouldn’t seep into our professional lives and you most definitely don’t need to _imply_ my country is bullying yours or any other. We have regulations for consumer protection and take that seriously. We take protecting our people very seriously—”

Viktor arches an eyebrow, leaning forward: “Are you accusing me of being belligerent to your government because my ex-boyfriend broke up with me, just for making a comment? Mr. Katsuki, I have spent a considerable amount of time preparing to serve and advocating for my country; I love it fiercely and respect it too much to water down long-time bilateral discussions to personal relationship squabbles. You’d know Eglen has consistently refuted these constant changes in policy by your government for decades and been forced to accommodate to protect its fishing sector. This is just the most recent iteration. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Because to you and everyone at your Embassy we’re just a tiny, inconsequential country. What do we matter, small little Eglen? – We only seem to matter to you now that we have potential energy resources. I’ll have you know, though, that many of us have been outspoken about our relationship for a long time.”

 _Ex-boyfriend_. The word hits Yuuri almost immediately. He gulps hard.

“Lead among them has been me,” Viktor continues, already standing. “We don’t need Acirema’s assistance. We will comply with the new standards and import regulations and train our commercial officers and provide industry-wide assistance _once_ we receive official notice from your government. Until then, please convey that we thank you for the information and look forward to continuing our mutual cooperation – and you can kindly leave out the ‘so as not to starve.’ I’m sure that’s implied. Good day.”

(“I never even got to mention the fish affected with the way you went all out on me,” Yuuri will remind Viktor, pouting as they sit together flipping through channels to avoid the sudden influx of nature documentaries that have taken over Eglen’s cable networks.

“WHAT?! That’s what you’re focusing on?” Viktor will scoff, just a little annoyed. “What about the ex-boyfriend part?”

“That one hurt, too. But the fish thing really stayed with me,” Yuuri will shrug and lean back against Viktor’s chest. “I’m really anxious about doing my job right and I didn’t tell you about the fish.”

After a moment of silence, Viktor will whisper against his ear, “Would you feel better if you told me about the fish now?”)

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

It’s all a mess. Ambassador Yakov isn’t very happy with Yuuri’s (redacted) report. He’s been touting how good their relationship with the Eglenians is regularly. The information about to come from their reporting channels won’t be very good at all. 

“He broke up with me and let me know in the middle of the demarche response,” Yuuri groans, covering his face as both Chris and Phichit listen attentively in his living room. Both had rushed to see him, bringing ice cream and a pair of very sympathetic ears. “He didn’t even tell me or text me, just dropped it like a fact in the middle of the conversation. You should’ve seen how angry he was. His accent was all over the place! Not to mention it’s the most Acireman I’ve ever heard him talk.”

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” Phichit whispers, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

Chris nods, leaning back as he lets Yuuri’s dog lick his face, “Sometimes it’s best not to mix sex and politics. It’s prime nesting ground for scandals. Not that you two weren’t adorable together, but better now than later.”

Phichit frowns, glaring at Chris, “What about us, though?”

“What about us? Oh, not us. We don’t even talk to each other work-wise. We do completely different things,” Chris reminds him. “That’s not us at all! We’re just enjoying the sex part. Now, Yuuri and Viktor, they were a real mess. Can you imagine? Viktor is, like, a year from running for office or becoming a minister; that’s what his father wants. Can you just picture it? Headlines would be everywhere! Eglenians re exceedingly nationalistic and very conscious of marrying within the community. Why do you think the country is so small and homogeneous?”

Yuuri glares at them both, “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your compassion.”

“How do you know that?” Phichit asks, amazed. He brings out his phone, already filing the information away.

“Oh, Viktor and I take ice skating lessons at the same rink!” Chris says, smug. “He tells me a lot of things.”

And Yuuri realizes for the first time what Viktor meant about distance. Yuuri most definitely didn’t know about any of Viktor’s potential political ambitions. He pulls out his phone and waits, like maybe if he wishes it long enough, he can manifest a text message from Viktor.  

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

It’s even more weeks before Yuuri sees Viktor. His boss gets sick and sends Yuuri to a special dinner hosted by Chris’ Embassy. Naturally, Yuuri spots Viktor by the cheese platters. He looks beautiful with a fresh haircut and a flattering uniform with the official black and red cape with the Eglenian seal embossed in silver: “Mr. Katsuki,” he says, a soft, uncertain smile dancing over his lips as he takes stock of him, “I should’ve known you’d be here for the cheese, too. Ah, Havarti, eh? – you always did have excellent taste.”

(“You didn’t get the reference,” Viktor will sigh, looking a minute from heartbreak. This will be later, much later as they prepare to host pizza night for their friends. Apparently, Viktor remembers very well how he and Yuuri first met, whereas Yuuri still questions the validity of his narrative and contests it against pictures. 

“I didn’t know you were referencing anything! I thought you were just being nice.”)

Yuuri approaches a little closer, finally feeling a little more at ease. He holds his second glass of champagne tightly with both hands.

“Hardest thing to find,” Yuuri admits, taking Viktor’s words as an invitation to reach over him for a cube of cheese. Viktor did have excellent taste; Yuuri only liked to mimic it. His hand grazes over Viktor’s exposed wrist. “I wonder how much they spent on all of this.”

“Thousands,” Viktor whispers, leaning close to Yuuri’s ear. He gives him a short wink. “Chris likes to talk. Apparently, his Ambassador’s wife got _very_ involved in the decorations. Made him submit for three different flower arrangements only to like none of them and have him import tulips. From home. Imagine the expedited shipping costs.”

Yuuri almost chokes.

He doesn’t even know how to respond to that. This is a very different Viktor, both a very light memory of his former boyfriend tugging at his heartstrings and not. It’s appealing in all the ways it shouldn’t be, like pretending this is an entirely new person.

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to tell people that,” Yuuri laughs.

Viktor shrugs, “Chris didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Is that like how you told him you might run for office or become a minister?”

“Yes, a little like that, I suppose,” Viktor grins. They stand shoulder to shoulder for quite a while. Every so often, Yuuri nurses his glass of champagne with slow sips. When a song begins to entreat people to the dancefloor, Viktor seems to be hit with something unreadable, far away and unreachable even as it inks all over his face. He gulps hard, offering Yuuri his hand. “ _Would you like to dance?_ ” he asks in Eglenian.

Yuuri only realizes then how much he’d missed hearing him speak in Eglenian rather than Acireman.

Egelenian is this beautiful language, so wholly impractical to Yuuri and precious to Viktor. It was always like being given an invitation to cross a bridge of understanding into the Eglen Viktor loved. Speaking Acireman had felt comforting, but distant given their new relationship.

The invitation to dance, though, is something else.

“ _I’d like to, but I don’t know that I should._ ”

“ _Your Eglenian is getting so good!_ ” Viktor gushes, already trying to pull Yuuri towards the dance floor. “Please, Yuuri? We can’t let your Ambassador stomp his way into the dancefloor. _He might just outshine Peter the Penguin and that can’t happen._ ”

“Pete the Penguin is here?” Yuuri gapes, amazed as he tries to look around.

Viktor laughs, light and hearty, “Of course! He’s probably somewhere. Have I introduced you yet? I should introduce you. Will you let me introduce you?”

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

They don’t stop dancing for the rest of the evening. In between dances, they barely stop to graze at the dishes on the buffet table. Viktor is equally handy at fixing cocktail plates as he is in the kitchen, and it sends Yuuri’s heart fluttering with every single creation pushed past his lips. He’s beyond propriety, he realizes, but this feels different, like there’s some magic in the air that verges on a memory of the irreverent.

And at the end of the evening, just as they''re walking side by side to the parking lot, Viktor pulls Yuuri aside and says: “ _How about dessert at my place?_ "

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, both confused and eager to see Viktor again like this, “When?”

“ _How about tonight?_ ” Viktor asks, eyes twinkling.

“You made something before coming here?” Yuuri frowns, confused.

Viktor shakes his head, and Yuuri immediately understands, nodding frantically as he throws his arms around Viktor’s neck to pull him into a kiss just as Viktor pulls him into his car.

(“You got that reference!” Viktor will beam, excited as he flops onto their sofa. He will pull Yuuri down to rest on his lap and laugh. His eyes will grow soft and lidded when he asks, “ _How about dessert now?_ ”

Yuuri will playfully shove him with a light slap, only pausing for a moment to admire the gold band on his finger. “It only works twice. Sorry.”)

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

Because everything comes to an end, and apparently Yuuri had not actually won back his boyfriend with excellent dance moves and killer taste in cheeses (or at least not at that party anyway), Yuuri decides around the ‘four months left’ mark that he needs to propose immediately—especially having filled out all that paperwork and finally getting the greenlight from Minako that he was good to marry their desk officer, so long as Viktor was fine with quitting his job, stopping all local political affiliations, and following Yuuri around the world. Or something like that. Minako had mainly only cared about the first two, but all three hung on the balance for Yuuri’s happily ever after, which was starting to send him into a serious bout of anxiety.

“Sir,” he tells Ambassador Feltsman, fidgeting nervously. “I wanted to let you know I’ll be meeting with President Nikiforov next week. It’s not about work at all but I felt strongly you needed to know so you wouldn’t think I was trying to overstep my position.”

Ambassador Feltsman listens attentively, looking gruff as ever.  

“I’m going to ask for his son’s hand in marriage.”

“You need me to come with you?”

“No, I think I’ll be okay on my own.”

When Ambassador Feltsman tells him to bring Viktor to their next Embassy staff party, Yuuri feels like he’s received some sort of weird, strange blessing from his home country.

   .

_Eglen and Acirema_

.

“I think we should leave immediately,” Viktor tells him after he’s done kissing Yuuri long enough to slip the engagement ring on his own finger. Apparently, they’d both had very similar thoughts because Yuuri is also wearing a gold band around his finger. It’s all a little comical and he’s sure Phichit is going to get a big laugh out of all of it when they next talk at work. Viktor tastes like crispy duck with tamarind sauce seeping through the rice paper rolls Yuuri’s mom had sent. “You realize Eglenian press is going to be all over it. I was pretty much my father and political party’s main hope. They’re going to call me a traitor for leaving. And you, _who knows what they’ll say about you!_ ” – It’s the most their relationship has ever felt like something forbidden or scandalous, and he thinks back to Chris’ words.

“Well,” Yuuri fidgets, unsure. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it. “Four months is not a long time. I think we can make it. But I’ll see about a bridge assignment or something. I’m sure the Embassy will understand. I’d just rather not expedite all the paperwork ahead of us. There’s a lot of it, Viktor.”

“ _You’re telling me! I’m the one that has to uproot my entire life for you,_ ” he sighs. “ _At least you’re from Acirema. People here like Acirema. Can you imagine if you had been from anywhere else?_ Chaos. Not that it’s not already chaos. I have to tell the Minister I’m quitting.”

Yuuri laughs, listening to Viktor speak both languages seamlessly and beautiful, like something akin to what it will probably feel like to build a home together. He presses both his hands against Viktor’s cheeks to pull their foreheads together.

“Chaos sounds about right,” Yuuri beams, a little reminder that it’s not a bad thing. Viktor looks coy for a moment, shifting so his knees rub against a very familiar rug.

 **The End**  


End file.
